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Screwdriver Fight

Morning of July 12, 2015. Sunday.

The first part of my dream is taking place in an unfamiliar home, where there is a large covered-sidewalk-like area and portico in the back of our house that extends along all the outer walls that face the backyard. An older white-bearded male in shorts, who seems like a neighbor in real life (though he is only at his apartment one or two days out of a month or more) is standing there near our house on the covered sidewalk and talking very loudly and continuously on his cellphone (as he often does in real life for an hour or more at a time, never pausing for even a short time, though while on his back porch across the alley from our place). I am not sure if he is talking to anyone or just talking to himself, using the telephone as a prop. Another male is there who seems to know him. I ask him about why he is doing this as the other male does not seem to think he is doing anything wrong. My wife and I, though, mostly are in the front yard the whole time. My perception is somewhat distorted as if I am fully aware of the imagery and sound on the other side of our house the whole time (even though I had not actually been in that area in-dream). I loudly say "How would he like it if I sat right near his window talking loudly for a long time?" In my dream, our (fictional) houses seem to be on the same street, side by side (his on my left when facing our house), rather than having facing backyards divided by an alley and our high fence as in reality. Also, the fictional covered sidewalk area seems almost as big as our house (though that is not really possible; just some sort of typical in-dream perceptual distortion or faulty reasoning, since I am mostly focused on our neighbor's trespassing and imposition).

No drama ensues, as my dream shifts to something different where my wife is talking about a Ragdoll cat I see in our backyard, which is one my wife had when I first met her. My wife says that the cat has diabetes and because of that, it is somewhat dehydrated as well as apparently bloated on one side near its back (which does not make much sense). It is uncertain how long the cat will live. I watch it closely, pondering its seemingly unavoidable fate. There is a swimming pool with an open cylindrical drain large enough for a cat to swim down through and that is what it does. The mostly white cat jumps into the deep, clear water, moving very smoothly, much as with the motions of a human swimmer, even doing a "realistic" butterfly stroke for a time. I can see its front legs move forward and around, even noticing the flexing of its feet and toes that remind me much of a person's hands and fingers. I contemplate the beauty of the intelligence of this cat, that is now apparently ready to leave the world in this manner, by swimming as much as possible within the water, enjoying its aquatic journey to peace as if it knows it is too ill to continue on land. I watch it swim directly down into the drain, perfectly and smoothly. However, even though there is not enough room to turn around within the pipe, the cat somehow emerges in the other direction (coming out headfirst) in a short time and seems healed. It no longer appears to have any health issues.

There is another shift and we seem to be living in a larger version of Cubitis, where an unknown younger male drives into our front yard while we are outside. I expect trouble. It seems nighttime as it is dark out, though it does not really "feel" like it is later at night. He pushes my wife but I get his attention by holding out a screwdriver as a weapon in my right hand. He pulls out from inside his shirt or jacket somehow, what I first think to be a knife but is actually another screwdriver the same as mine. For only a moment, it seems as if he has two left forearms (with two left hands) in close proximity (each from the same elbow area), each with a screwdriver (but my dream quickly "corrects itself" and the imagery is then normal with only one left hand holding one screwdriver). I end up quickly jabbing him twice in the chest, once near the middle, once slightly to the right, but then he mostly lies on the ground giggling even though he is badly, perhaps fatally, wounded. Soon, he seems to be gone from the setting somehow as well as the car (some sort of dream "reset", or a typical way dreams sometimes sublimate or "erase" their own unfolding implications or short-term history). I talk to my wife who seems to be okay.

smoothly swimming cat
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fight with a screwdriver
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imposing man talking loudly
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swimming down a drain
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